Chapter IV

The day was an hour older. The heat of the afternoon sun was tempered by a fresh breeze from the hills, which had sprung up a little while ago. The windows of Madame De Vigne’s sitting-room stood wide open, and the curtains waved to and fro in the breeze, but the room itself was empty.

In a little while a sound of knocking was heard; but there being no response, the door was presently opened, and Jules, followed by Lady Renshaw and Miss Wynter, entered the room.

‘Pardon, milady, but Madame De Vigne is not here,’ said Jules.

At this moment Nanette, madame’s maid, entered the room, seeing which, Jules made his exit. ‘You wish to see madame?’ inquired Nanette.

‘When she is at liberty,’ said her ladyship graciously.

‘What name shall I give madame?’

‘I am Lady Renshaw; and this is my niece, Miss Wynter.’

Nanette courtesied and went.

Lady Renshaw proceeded to make herself at home, appraising the ornaments on the chimney-piece, peering into a photograph album, turning over a book of engravings, trying a drawer or two in the cabinet, and so on.

‘Really a charming room; quite the best in the hotel, I have been given to understand,’ she remarked. ‘To think of the audacity of this Madame De Vigne in engaging such a room for herself and party! But these adventuresses are nothing if not audacious. Yes, a charming room; and it will suit us admirably. And then the view—oh! the view’—going to the window and peering out through her glasses. ‘It is magnifique—très magnifique.’

Miss Wynter was sitting languidly in an easy-chair: she had a knack of picking out the cosiest and softest chair in a room.

‘But you have not yet told me your reason, aunt’——

‘For wishing to make the acquaintance of this Madame De Vigne. I will enlighten you.’

At this juncture Nanette re-entered the room. ‘Madame will be down in the course of a few minutes, if your ladyship will please to wait.’

‘A French maid, too!’ burst forth Lady Renshaw the moment the girl had left the room. ‘One would like to know how this woman came by her money. Most probably at the gaming-table.’

‘O aunt!’

‘Happily for you, my dear, you know little of the world. You have never been to Monaco, for instance. I have.—But to explain to you my reasons for wishing to make the acquaintance of this—this person.’ Her ladyship sat down and opened her fan. ‘On glancing through the Visitors’ Book this afternoon—a thing which I always do as soon as I arrive at a strange hotel—I found there the name of Mr Archibald Ridsdale.’

‘Aunt!’

‘I was not greatly surprised, after the note I received from Mrs Delorme, Mr Ridsdale’s aunt, a few days before leaving town. She wrote something to this effect: “I am given to understand that that foolish nephew of mine is philandering somewhere among the Lakes in company with those two adventuresses who have got him in their toils. Should you come across the party in your travels, write me all particulars you can pick up concerning them; and should any opportunity offer itself, I hope you will do all that lies in your power to extricate Archie from this dreadful entanglement.”—Well, my dear, as good fortune would have it, here they all are—Mr Archie and the two adventuresses—in this very hotel.’ And Lady Renshaw fanned herself complacently.

‘But under what pretext do you propose to introduce yourself to Madame De Vigne?’

‘You will learn when the time comes,’ answered her ladyship with a diplomatic smile. ‘Meanwhile, I have something very serious to say to you.’

‘Yes, aunt.’

‘The season before last, Mr Ridsdale paid you very marked attention—very marked indeed. He really seemed quite taken with you; and it must have been entirely your own fault that you let him slip through your fingers in the way you did. I was never more annoyed in my life. But there is just a possibility that it may not be too late even now to repair your wretched blunder.’

‘But Mr Ridsdale is engaged, is he not?’

‘O my dear, engagements nowadays are lightly made and as lightly broken. It is quite possible that by this time the foolish young fellow may be thoroughly cured of his infatuation for this young woman, whom nobody seems to know anything about, and may be longing for some friendly hand to snap the thread that binds him to her. It is quite possible that when he sees you again he may’—— Here her ladyship nodded meaningly at her niece. ‘You know what I mean. Now, if the slightest chance is given you, I beg that you will play your cards differently this time! Think! the only son of one of our richest and oldest baronets! What a position would be yours! What a’—— Suddenly her ladyship caught sight of something outside the window. She rose and crossed the room and peered out through her glasses. ‘Why, I declare there’s that young curate again, sitting under a tree all alone with his book!’

Miss Wynter’s languor vanished in a moment. She started to her feet. ‘Where, aunt?’ she asked eagerly.—‘Yes, poor fellow; he does look rather lonely, doesn’t he?’

‘I don’t suppose you have the slightest notion who the young man really is?’ said her ladyship, with the air of a person who has made a grand discovery.

Bella threw a startled look at her aunt. ‘No—no—of course not. How should I?’ Then coaxingly: ‘But who is he, aunty dear?’

‘The son of a bishop, my dear.—What do you think of that?’

‘Good gracious!’ exclaimed the young girl with a gasp, as well she might. ‘But how did you find that out, aunt?’

‘You remember that he told us his name was Mr Golightly?’

Bella nodded assent.

‘Well, on reaching the hotel I asked to see the Clergy List, where I found that the only Golightly mentioned there is the Bishop of Melminster. It’s by no means a common name, and this young man must be the bishop’s son. I’ve not a doubt of it in my own mind.’

Lady Renshaw had evidently a fine faculty for leaping to conclusions from very insufficient data.

‘O aunt, how clever you are!’ was the comment of the wicked Bella.

‘That’s as it may be, my dear,’ was the complacent answer. ‘What are our brains given us for but to make proper use of them.’

‘Don’t you think Mr Golightly very nice-looking?’ asked Miss Wynter with the most innocent air imaginable.

‘Intellectual-looking, no doubt. He has the air of a man who habitually burns the midnight oil. I have no doubt that the dear bishop has inculcated him with studious habits.’

It will be observed that her ladyship’s English was occasionally a little slipshod, especially when she lugged long words into her sentences with which she had only a bowing acquaintance.

Miss Wynter turned away to hide a smile. ‘What fun it will be to tell all this to Dick, by-and-by!’ she said to herself.

‘We must cultivate him, my dear,’ resumed her ladyship, who evidently deemed two strings better than one, to her niece’s bow. ‘In these days, a bishop’s son is not by any means to be sneered at. Who knows but that he may take a fancy to you! You must endeavour to sit next him at dinner, and draw him gently on to talk of the subjects that interest him, and then of course you will discover that you are deeply interested in the same subjects yourself.’

‘I will do my best, aunt,’ responded Bella softly.

At this moment the door opened, and Madame De Vigne entered the room. The two ladies rose simultaneously to their feet.

‘Lady Renshaw?’ said madame inquiringly, with a slight but stately inclination of the head.

Her ladyship bowed in some confusion. ‘Madame De Vigne, I presume?’ she contrived to stammer out. For once in a way her self-confidence had deserted her.

‘Yes,’ was the simple answer, but still with the same look of inquiry in the large, lustrous, melancholy eyes.

Never in her life had Lady Renshaw felt herself so much like an intruder. She recovered herself somewhat behind the shelter of a little cough. Then she said: ‘Before explaining my intrusion, allow me to introduce my niece, Miss Wynter.’

The two ladies bowed, and the eyes of the elder one kindled with a smile. There was something in the girl’s face that attracted her.

‘An adventuress indeed!’ exclaimed Bella to herself. ‘Aunt never made a greater mistake in her life.’

Her ladyship had recovered her fluency by this time. ‘I must lay the blame of our intrusion, Madame De Vigne, on the shoulders of Mr Archie Ridsdale?’

‘Of Mr Ridsdale, Lady Renshaw?’

‘Archie is quite an old friend both of Bella and myself.’

‘I am pleased to make the acquaintance of any friends of Mr Ridsdale,’ responded Madame De Vigne gravely.—‘Will you not be seated?’

The three ladies sat down, Miss Wynter artfully choosing a seat near the open window, whence she could glance occasionally at Mr Dulcimer, who, to all appearance, was still intent upon his book.

‘And now to make a full confession,’ began her ladyship smilingly, as she first opened and then shut her fan. ‘When we arrived here this afternoon and requested to be shown to a private sitting-room, we were informed that the hotel was full, and that there was not one to be had for love or money. So I made up my mind that till a private room should be vacant, my niece and I would have to content ourselves with the accommodation of the ladies’ coffee-room. But, O my dear Madame De Vigne, I had not been in the room ten minutes, before I found that it would be an utter impossibility for us to stay there. Such a strange medley of people I was never among before. Association with them, even temporarily, was altogether out of the question. So told Bella not to have our trunks unpacked, but that, after a little refreshment, we would endeavour to find some other hotel where we could be properly accommodated. But at this juncture I discovered that Mr Ridsdale was staying here with a party of friends in their own suite of rooms. Then a happy thought struck me, and I said to my niece: “Considering our long friendship with dear Archie, I wonder whether we should be looked upon as intruders if we were to go to Madame De Vigne and beg of her to find space for us in a corner of her sitting-room during the two or three days we intend staying in this place.”’ Here her ladyship, being slightly out of breath, paused for a moment.

Miss Wynter had first turned red and then pale while listening to her ladyship’s apology. ‘O auntie, auntie, what fibs you are telling!’ she murmured under her breath.

‘So now, dear Madame De Vigne, you know all,’ resumed her ladyship. ‘If we shall incommode you in the slightest degree, pray tell us so at once, and’——

Madame De Vigne held up her hand in gentle deprecation. ‘Not another word is needed, Lady Renshaw,’ she said. ‘What you ask is a very small favour, indeed. Pray, consider this room as yours during your stay. It will please me much to know that you do so.’

‘Isn’t she nice!’ said Bella to herself admiringly. ‘If I were a man I believe I should fall in love with her.’

‘You are really very kind, and I am more obliged to you than I can say,’ remarked Lady Renshaw with her most expansive smile. ‘Archie too, dear boy, will be immensely gratified when he finds us installed here.’ Then after a momentary pause, she added: ‘Do you purpose making much of a stay among the Lakes, may I ask?’

‘I can scarcely tell. Our little holiday may come to an end in two or three days, or it may extend to as many weeks.’

Bella’s gaze had been intently fixed on Mr Dulcimer. ‘I do believe he is winking at me over his book!’ she cried to herself. ‘But he has audacity enough for anything.’

‘Pardon the question, dear Madame De Vigne, but am I right in assuming that, like myself, you have been left desolate and forlorn in this vale of tears?’

‘I am a—a widow, if that is what you mean, Lady Renshaw.’

‘Then is there one more bond of sympathy between us. Never can I forget my own loss. It was five years last Monday since poor dear Sir Timothy died. But I see him every night in my dreams, and I carry his portrait and a lock of his hair—he had not much hair, poor darling—with me wherever I go. He was not handsome; but he was a most excellent creature. He left me all he possessed, and—and he only lived two years and a half after our marriage!’

The affecting picture was too much for her ladyship’s feelings; she pressed her perfumed and delicately embroidered handkerchief to her eyes. Madame De Vigne, with a slightly disdainful expression on her pale features, sat as cold and unmoved as a statue.

‘How ridiculous of aunt to carry on in that style!’ thought Bella to herself with a very red face.

Madame De Vigne turned to the young girl. ‘Is this your first visit to the Lakes, Miss Wynter?’

‘Yes; I have never been so far north before.’

‘I hope you will be favoured with as fine weather as we have had. They tell me that in these parts it sometimes rains for a week without ceasing.’

‘O dear, how very depressing. I shouldn’t like that at all.’

By this time Lady Renshaw was ready to resume the attack. ‘Pardon me, dear Madame De Vigne, but judging from the name, I presume your husband was not an Englishman?’

‘He was a Frenchman, Lady Renshaw.’

‘Some of the most charming men I have ever met were Frenchmen. Am I right in assuming that your loss is of an older date than mine?’

‘I lost my husband several years ago.’

‘Ah, then, Time has no doubt softened the blow to you. I am told that it generally does; but, for my part, I feel that I can never cease to mourn poor, dear Sir Timothy.—In all probability you have spent much of your life abroad?’

‘I have lived abroad a great deal, Lady Renshaw.’ As she spoke these words she rose abruptly and crossed to the other side of the room. ‘This woman is insufferable,’ she said to herself. ‘She must have some motive for her questions. What can it be?’

‘There’s something in her life she wants to hide. I scent a mystery,’ remarked Lady Renshaw to herself with a fine sense of complacency.

Miss Wynter had again become absorbed in furtively watching Mr Dulcimer. ‘Poor Dick, how sanctimonious he looks! But then, to be sure, he’s the son of a bishop!’ she whispered to herself with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Next moment the door was opened, and in came Miss Gaisford and Miss Loraine. At the sight of strangers they stopped suddenly. Madame De Vigne came forward. Lady Renshaw and Miss Wynter rose.

‘Lady Renshaw—Miss Wynter—permit me to introduce to you Miss Gaisford and my sister, Miss Loraine.—Penelope, Clarice—Lady Renshaw and her niece, Miss Wynter—friends of Mr Ridsdale.’

The two girls shot a critical glance at each other, as girls always do when they are introduced.

‘The girl Archie’s engaged to!’ remarked Bella under her breath. ‘Well, she’s awfully handsome; nobody can deny that. I suppose that by the side of her I look a regular gipsy. That gown she’s got on was never made in town. Quite a country cut. But how well she carries it off.’

‘What a very pretty girl!’ was Clarice’s unspoken comment. ‘Only I never remember hearing Archie mention her name.’

As Lady Renshaw peered at Clarice through her eyeglass she instinctively felt that if young Ridsdale were really engaged to this splendid young creature, any hopes she might have cherished of winning him away from her side were likely to end in smoke. She at once admitted to herself that whatever pictures of the two sisters she might previously have drawn in her mind’s eye were totally unlike the reality. If these women were adventuresses, they certainly didn’t look it, so far as her experiences of such beings went. None the less did it seem certain that Archie was being inveigled into a marriage against which his father would no doubt resolutely set his face. There was no knowing what strange turn Fortune’s wheel might bring about. Meanwhile she must watch and wait and keep her own counsel.

‘May I be permitted to assume, dear Madame De Vigne, that, with the exception of Mr Ridsdale, your little party is now complete?’ queried her ladyship.

‘Not quite, Lady Renshaw. We are still short of two friends—the Rev. Mr Gaisford and Dr M‘Murdo, whose acquaintance you will doubtless make a little later on.’

‘And that of their wives?’ asked her ladyship languidly with a graceful sweep of her fan.

‘They haven’t any; they are bachelors,’ interposed Miss Gaisford brusquely.

‘O-h. Bachelors are always interesting creatures in the eyes of our sex, Miss Gaisford. But it is possible that the gentlemen in question may be on the eve of changing their condition?’

‘Will this woman’s questions never cease?’ murmured Madame De Vigne to herself.

‘Not at all, Lady Renshaw—not at all,’ responded the vicar’s sister. ‘They know too well when they are well off.’

‘O fie, now, Miss Gaisford! You must not turn traitress to your sex. What are we sent into the world for if not to make the men happy!’

‘It seems like it to any one who reads the daily papers,’ was the grim response.

‘By the way, dear, what has become of Mr Ridsdale?’ asked Madame De Vigne of her sister.

‘He has gone as far as the post-office. He thought that the letter he has been expecting for the last few days might perhaps be waiting there for him.’

‘A letter from his father, without a doubt,’ muttered Lady Renshaw. ‘Probably the one containing Sir William’s final decision.’

Clarice had crossed to the window to speak to Miss Wynter. Suddenly she gave a little start. ‘Why, I declare there’s Archie over yonder, talking to that young curate whom we saw this afternoon. They seem to be acquainted. And now they are coming this way.’

‘Good gracious! Dick coming here!’ exclaimed Miss Wynter under her breath.

Archie Ridsdale entered the sitting-room from the veranda, followed—bashfully—by Mr Richard Dulcimer, otherwise Mr Golightly.

‘Ladies all,’ began Archie, ‘allow me to introduce to you my old friend and college chum, Dick Golightly—one of the best of fellows when you come to know him, but, like the snail, of a most retiring disposition—one of those people, in fact, whom it takes a deal of persuasion to coax out of their shell.—Golightly, don’t blush, there’s a dear boy; the ladies won’t eat you.—Madame De Vigne—Miss Gaisford—Miss Loraine. You will know them all better by-and-by.—Now don’t, for goodness’ sake, be a snail.’—Then turning, he exclaimed with a well-feigned start: ‘Ah! Lady Renshaw, as I live!’ and with that he held out his hand, which her ladyship grasped with much cordiality.

‘This is indeed an unlooked-for pleasure,’ he went on. ‘I never see your ladyship without being reminded of what the poet says: “A thing of beauty is a joy for ever.”’

‘Fie, you naughty boy’—tapping him with her fan—‘you are not a bit improved since I saw you last.’

‘Allow me,’ continued Archie. ‘My friend, Mr Golightly—Lady Renshaw.’

‘I think that I have had the pleasure of meeting Mr Golightly before—for a few minutes on the lawn this afternoon.’

Richard murmured something inaudible in reply. He was twisting his hat between his fingers, and shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. He tried his hardest to call up a blush, but failed ignominiously.

Archie had turned to Bella.

‘Surprises will never cease. My dear Miss Wynter, I am more delighted to see you than I can express. Words are powerless in a case like this.—Golightly, let me make you a happy man for ever by introducing you to Miss Bella Wynter—one of the most charming and at the same time most dangerous belles of the season.—Miss Wynter, do, for mercy’s sake, take this unsophisticated youth under your wing, and try to coax him out of his shell.’

‘Isn’t that rather a mixed-up metaphor, Mr Ridsdale?’

‘’Twill serve, as Mercutio says. You know my meaning.’

‘Mr—a—Mr Golightly,’ said her ladyship.

Richard turned, and the dowager motioned him with her fan to take a seat beside her on the ottoman.

‘O Archie!’ said Bella in a whisper, ‘what a dreadful scrape you have got poor Dick into by bringing him in here!’

‘Don’t you believe it,’ responded Mr Ridsdale with a grin. ‘For pure impudence, I don’t know any young man of his years who’s a match for Dicky Dulcimer. And as for throwing dust in Lady Renshaw’s eyes, the scoundrel will revel in it—absolutely revel in it.’

‘Poor, dear aunty, if she only knew!’ said Bella with a touch of compunction, which, however, by no means tended to dim the sparkle in her eyes.

‘And how was the dear bishop, Mr Golightly, when you last heard from him?’ inquired her ladyship in her blandest tones.

Dick stared, as well he might. ‘The bishop, Lady Renshaw!’ he stammered.

‘I mean your dear papa, of course. When I was quite a girl, I was several times at Melminster.’

‘O-h!’ answered Dick with a prolonged indrawing of his breath. ‘I crave your ladyship’s pardon. When last I heard from Melminster, every one there was quite well.’

A light had begun to dawn on him. ‘She takes the bishop for my father, whereas he’s only my godfather. Evidently the name has misled her,’ he said to himself with an inward chuckle. ‘Well—bless her stupidity! It’s no part of my duty to enlighten her.’

‘I am so glad to hear it,’ continued her ladyship innocently. ‘The duties of such an exalted position must be very trying to the constitution. For myself, I am happy to say that I have always been a stanch upholder of the Establishment.’

Mr Golightly bowed, but had no reply ready.

‘I hope that we shall have the pleasure of a good deal of your society, Mr Golightly, during the time you stay in these parts.’

‘Thanks. Delighted, I’m sure,’ lisped that model young man. ‘Mamma has always been wishful that I should cultivate the society of ladies as much as possible. Men nowadays—at least, lots of them—are so fast and slangy, don’t you know. I always like to do as mamma bids me.’

‘A most exalted sentiment. I wish all young men thought as you do, Mr Golightly. I should very much like to make the acquaintance of your mamma. She must be a most estimable lady. I suppose, now, that you lead a very quiet and domesticated life at the palace?’

‘At the palace! Oh—ah—yes, very quiet.’ Then he added to himself: ‘By Jove, though, I haven’t been at the palace for nearly a dozen years—not since poor old dad’s fortune collapsed. Bishops, like other people, find it convenient to forget old friends when they have a mind to do so.’

‘Charming young lady, Miss Wynter,’ Master Dick ventured to remark presently to her ladyship.

‘I’m pleased you think so. Bella’s a sweet girl, though I say it who ought not. She is looking towards us. I believe she has something to say to you, Mr Golightly.’

‘Has she? Then perhaps your ladyship will kindly excuse me.’ He rose, glad enough to get away from the dowager, and crossed to his lady-love.

‘A young nincompoop, if ever there was one!’ was the complimentary remark that followed him. ‘Bella ought to be able to twist him round her little finger.’

‘At last, my darling!’ whispered the young man as he drew a chair up close to Miss Wynter.

‘You dreadful, dreadful Dick!’

‘What would I not venture for your sake, my pet!’

‘I’m not your pet.’

‘Deny it, if you dare. But what put all that rigmarole into her ladyship’s head about my father the bishop, and’——

But at this moment the dull clangour of the dinner gong made itself heard throughout the hotel. There was a general movement in the room.

‘I will talk to you later on. You may sit next me at dinner, if you can contrive it,’ whispered Bella hurriedly before she joined her aunt.

‘Be careful in what way you talk to Mr Golightly,’ remarked the latter lady in an undertone. ‘Above all, no frivolity; and don’t forget that you have been brought up in a pious family.’

Archie came bustling up. ‘Now, Lady Renshaw, permit me the honour.—Golightly, I leave you to look after Miss Wynter and Miss Loraine.—By the way,’ he added, ‘what has become of the vicar and his friend the doctor?’

‘It is only that Septimus is late as usual,’ answered Miss Pen. ‘That big trout has detained him, and Dr M‘Murdo is with him. No doubt they will turn up by the time dinner is half over.’

‘Are you not going to join us at dinner, dear Madame De Vigne?’ inquired the dowager with much suavity.

‘Not to-day, I think, Lady Renshaw. Will you allow me for once to plead a woman’s usual excuse—a headache?’

‘So sorry.’ Then to herself: ‘She dines alone. Another evidence of a mystery.’ Then aloud: ‘And you, dear Miss Gaisford?’

‘I? Oh, I never miss my dinner. They charge it in the bill whether one has it or not. Even now the savoury odours of the soup reach me from afar. I will join you anon.’

‘What an odd creature! Inclined to be satirical. I don’t think that I shall like her,’ was the other’s unspoken remark as she sailed out of the room on Mr Ridsdale’s arm.

Mr Golightly followed with the two young ladies.

Miss Gaisford drew a long breath of relief as soon as the door was shut.

‘And now, if I may be so inquisitive, pray, who is our redundant friend?’

‘You know as much of her as I do,’ replied Madame De Vigne. ‘Introducing herself as a friend of Mr Ridsdale, she asked permission to share our sitting-room on the plea that all the other private rooms in the hotel were engaged. Under the circumstances of the case, I scarcely saw my way to decline her request.’

‘Oh, we all know how soft-hearted you are, my dear friend. She would not have found me such an easy victim. If I am not mistaken, Master Archie was as much annoyed as he was surprised at finding her here.’

‘I suppose we shall have the infliction of her company all evening,’ remarked Madame De Vigne with a little shrug of resignation.

‘I had forgotten that for the moment,’ answered Miss Pen musingly. Then she added quickly: ‘No—no; of all nights in the year, she shall not worry you to-night. When dinner is over, I will assign Dr Mac to her—together with Septimus. They shall take her down to the lake to see the moon rise—they shall even make love to her, if need be, so long as they keep her out of the way.’ Then, after glancing at her watch, Miss Pen went on, with a change of tone: ‘Another quarter of an hour and Colonel Woodruffe will be here!’

Madame De Vigne did not answer.

Miss Pen took one of her hands. ‘Mora—dear friend,’ she said, ‘you will treat him kindly to-night—more kindly than you did before?’

‘I shall not treat him unkindly.’

‘You will not refuse him what he asks? He is a noble, true-hearted man, of whose love any woman might be proud. You will not say No to him this time? You have made up your mind that this time the answer shall be Yes?’

‘Does a woman ever really make up her mind beforehand?—is she ever quite sure what her answer will be till the crucial moment has come?’

‘Thank goodness, my mind is generally made up about most things; but then, I’ve never been in love, and hope to goodness I never shall be. Still, with so much of it about, there’s no knowing. Like many other things, it may be catching.—But now, I must run off, or those good people will have gobbled up all the soup.’ At the door she turned. ‘Mora, I will never forgive you if the answer is anything but Yes—yes—yes!’

‘There goes as true-hearted a friend as any woman need wish to have,’ said Mora. She sighed, and rose and crossed to the window. ‘If I could but open my heart to her!—if I might but tell her everything! But not even to her dare I do that. And yet he must know—he must be told! What will he say—what will he do when he has read my letter? Ah me! I tremble—I am afraid.’

On the side-table stood an ebony and ivory writing-desk. This she now proceeded to open with a tiny key which hung from her châtelaine. From it she took a letter, and then relocked the desk.

‘Shall I give it him, or shall I not?’ she asked herself, as she held the letter between a thumb and finger of each hand and gazed intently at it. ‘It is not too late to destroy it. No one in the world need know that it was ever written. The temptation! the temptation!’

For a few moments she stood thus, gazing fixedly at the letter, as though there were some power of fascination in it, her tall figure swaying slightly to and fro. Then she roused herself as if from a dream, and said to herself: ‘No! I should be unworthy of his love, I should despise myself for ever, were I knowingly to let even the shadow of deceit come between us. There must be no more hesitation.’ She crossed to the chimney-piece and laid the letter on it. ‘Lie there till he comes,’ she said. ‘I will not touch you again—for fear.’

She shivered slightly, as if struck by a sudden chill, and going back to the window, she sat down in an easy-chair near it. A clock on the chimney-piece struck the hour with silvery tone. She started. ‘A few minutes more and he will be here,’ she said. She lay back in her chair, her head pressed against the cushions, her eyes closed, her slender fingers intertwined, in an attitude of utter abandonment. ‘Oh!’ she murmured, ‘if the ordeal were but over!’

(To be continued.)